


Flashback

by Cephy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Comfort, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-12
Updated: 2005-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo deals with some unexpected memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashback

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louise_lux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/gifts).



> Knowledge of the Burial arc will be helpful while reading this.

The last bullet slides home; he snaps his hand up and fires, turns and fires again as motion flickers at the corner of his eye. There is some light spilling from the inn through the shattered front door-- enough to fight by, even so late-- though any people inside have long since fled to their hiding holes.

The first inn they'd found in a week, with the promise of a bath and meal and bed only a short time away. _And these pricks had to come and ruin everything-- figures._ Sanzo blinks gritty eyes, turns and fires again in rapid succession, until the trigger clicks on an empty chamber.

He flips the gun open, hand already moving to reload before the echoes fade. It's done in barely a moment, in smooth and practiced gestures-- but as he lifts his arm to continue the fight, a hand comes tight around his neck from behind. And another around his waist, and hot breath washes his ear with a low laugh. Sanzo tries to pull away, but the enemy has somehow managed to get close enough, _too close_, and he won't let go-- pressed against his back, now, with fingers tightening against his skin--

_"You know, from up close-- his face looks almost like a girl's."_

Sanzo jerks, and blinks, and he's free and standing over a body with a bloody mess for a face, and pulling a trigger that clicks and clicks and clicks again. He can feel blood on his skin, on his cheeks-- warm and sticky and slowly trickling like tears. It is night, and _there_ is the inn, and the rest of it--

_Didn't happen._

They stare at him, all three of them, with varying expressions of surprise on their faces. They have their own toll of bodies at their feet, enough to mean that the battle is over for another night. Which means there's no reason to stay outside and bear the weight of their eyes when the surprise becomes something _else_.

He turns on his heel, walks straight through the ruined front door, up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door behind him and wrenching the bent latch back into place. His cigarettes are on the floor near the toppled table; he sinks down against the wall next to them, and reaches--

The gun is still in his hand. After a moment, he makes himself set it on the floor beside him. After another moment, he makes his fingers uncurl enough to leave it there.

A knock sounds. "Fuck off."

"Are you all right, Sanzo?"

It's Hakkai-- of _course_ it's Hakkai-- but there are more foosteps shuffling out there than he alone can account for. "I'm fine. Go away."

The door opens anyway, and all three of them are coming towards him. He scowls, reaches for the gun by reflex but shivers as he remembers he hasn't reloaded it yet-- and when he goes for the fan, his hand closes in an empty sleeve.

As they come close enough for their shadows to fall on him, he has to bite his cheek to keep from flinching away.

Hakkai and Gojyo wordlessly settle on either side of him, _leaning_. Goku watches a moment with an uncharacteristic solemnity in his eyes, then curls against Sanzo's legs in that boneless way he has.

"What the fuck are you three doing? Get away from me before I kill you." And he tries to pull away but for some reason he can't move.

"Shut up, bastard monk," Goyjo says conversationally, not even opening his eyes.

The package of cigarettes is still crushed tightly in one hand-- by reflex, he smoothes out the paper, pulls out one bent stick and brings it to his lips. A hand comes up before him with a lighter, and soon smoke is curling towards the ceiling.

He waits, but they don't move, and despite himself he starts to relax. Leaning back against the wall, he closes his eyes.

"Idiots."


End file.
